The Lost Diary of a Muggle
by Blossomlily
Summary: Coralie Roberts is a nineyear old Muggle. She is a witness to the horrific scenes in the camp during the Quidditch World Cup. This is her lost diary… Set during GoF. Oneshot


The Lost Diary of a Muggle – General Fiction

**A/N: Readers, this story deals with very little magic. Obviously. It is a part of a Muggle's diary. Just thought I'd inform you. :)**

Dear Diary,

Oh, this feels so very silly – writing in a diary. But there's nothing else to do now. We are at camp in a field, and Daddy is busy with the bookings for the campers. There are loads and loads of them this year, which got us all really surprised. Usually, during summer, we get troublesome, pesky individuals who are always throwing rubbish and complaining and picking up fights with Daddy. The last man got all worked up with Daddy before he left, and punched him. Then Daddy hit him back and the guy gave him a black eye. It was really funny! Andrew, my twelve-year old brother, Graham, my six-year old brother, and I rolled around on the grass laughing. Mum made us stop, but I could tell that she was a _little_ amused by the way the corners of her mouth went up slightly.

And then, Uncle Richard laughed at Daddy and even called him a 'panda', whatever that means. Daddy got really mad. He boxed Uncle Richie's ears and told him never to show his face to him again. But they made up anyway, when Uncle turned up the next day with a skeleton mask over his face, and Daddy couldn't help laughing. Uncle Richie acts like a clown sometimes, but we really like him.

Anyway, the new campers seem a really jolly lot. There are loads of them. They all seem so happy. Daddy is very busy now and Mum is almost always in a bad mood, though it is summer. Andrew never plays with me. Graham sometimes does, but he is only a little child. I really wish I could talk to some of the campers' children, but they don't notice me, and their parents seem very unwilling to let them near our tent.

Corrie

Dear Diary,

The new people are so strange! I noticed it and so did Daddy. But Andrew was too busy experimenting with Mum's food stock when she took her afternoon nap, trying the weirdest combinations. I swear, he is as mad as a hatter, though my Great Aunt Nellie constantly tells me not to swear. Anyway, Daddy and I saw a man in some of the weirdest clothes and I almost burst out laughing. But Daddy told me those clothes are called a 'kilt and a poncho', and he didn't think it was funny at all. He looked a bit worried.

I really hope these people stay for some time. Some of them look like foreigners. I have never seen foreigners except in the pictures in some of my books. Aunt Leslie once told me that I was a strange child because I told her I had never seen foreigners and that I wanted to. She said it in a nice way, though. She says there's nothing unusual about foreigners for me to gawk at them, but I think she is wrong. Today, I saw an African with a gold hoop in his ear. I couldn't help staring at him. He looked very tall and majestic! Then he saw me and winked at me! But I ran and hid from him in the bushes.

I want to talk to these people and get to know them, but they never seem to notice me.

Corrie

Dear Diary,

I went for a little walk for exploring on my own. The campers have such bizarre tents! Some of them even have upper stories. I tried telling Andrew about this but he wasn't really interested.

Just now, a man tried to pay Daddy with huge gold coins. I was very excited! I mean, it's not everyday you get paid with gold coins. But sadly, Daddy returned them to him and ordered him to pay in proper notes. The poor man seemed very confused. He asked one of the other campers, who was passing by, for help and he sorted it out. I felt a bit sorry for him, but it was still very funny. I mean, even I know how to buy things and stuff in the stores. It's really weird that a grown up doesn't.

Corrie

Dear Diary,

I am very confused. And I am scared, too. I am hiding in one of the bushes near our tent and writing this. Just now, a large group of people came by, and they, too, had trouble with money. It doesn't seem very funny now because these people were not foreigners. And the grown up who was paying didn't know how to, and a boy, who was a bit older than Andrew, helped him. I think Daddy, like me, became slightly suspicious. And then, a man appeared _out of thin air_ next to them, pointed a stick at Daddy, and said some funny words. He didn't see me because I was lying in the bushes, like now. And so, Daddy sort of smiled and said something and everyone left. When I asked him about it, he didn't remember anything, and kept saying, "What man? What stick?"

I am very frightened now. What if these people aren't as nice as they look? What if they are actually a big gang of robbers or kidnappers or something worse? They could murder us all in our beds. And how did they make Daddy forget about them?

I really wish Uncle Richie were here now. He would know what to do. But he has gone off to London for some business.

Corrie

Dear Diary,

Awful things are happening. I am too scared to write. My hands are shaking badly. Last night, I had taken my sleeping bag outside the tent and slept in the bushes, where it was nice and warm, because it was getting suffocating inside the tent. Suddenly, I woke up hearing noises and screams. I saw big fires, and I ran inside calling Daddy. But there was no one inside! I was frightened that my family had been murdered by the campers and I ran everywhere looking for them. But there were so many people running around and screaming, that it was hard to see. I tripped over something and fell down and I couldn't get up.

That was when I noticed the marchers. Big men in masks were marching around, yelling something with sticks in their hands, pointed upwards. To my horror, I realized that they were making some people float in the air and that those people were my family members. I tried to run towards them, but I was blocked by big people running everywhere. I fell to the ground again. This time, I think I fainted. I don't remember.

When I woke up later in the night there was no one there! I found my way back to the tent, sobbing, and again, to my shock, there my family was, peacefully asleep! I shook them all awake and began asking them questions. But they just told me to shut up and get back to bed. And so I did.

And now it's morning and I'm still confused. Very few of the campers are left now. But my parents still seem strangely, dazedly happy. They don't remember a thing about last night. I am sure I didn't dream it because I have a cut on my leg, where I hurt myself when I fell down. I am still hiding from everyone in the bushes. The campers might do anything to me if they read this diary. So I hide it whenever someone comes near me.

Corrie

Dear Diary,

It's still vague and unclear. I can't believe my family doesn't remember anything about last night. They say I must have dreamt it all up. If I show them my cut, they might believe me, but I won't. Daddy will only yell at me for my carelessness.

It's evening and most of the campers have packed up and left, which has surprised Daddy, but not me, because I know exactly why. Only a few groups are left now. I am really curious about who they all are and what they were doing last night. 

I am not going to ask my family any more questions, diary. Because just now, I heard Mum talking to Daddy and they sounded very worried. They think something might be wrong with me because I don't play anymore, not even by myself, and always sit around writing. Well, there is nothing wrong with that! And also, they seemed a bit concerned about the strange questions I asked them last night. 

Now _I_ am worried. What if they think I'm going mental?

Dear Diary, 

Now I know what to do. The more I write in here, or read what I've written, the more confused I get. I might just go mad, wondering about those campers. Mum and Daddy were right. I shouldn't write here anymore. It is just messing me up. So, maybe I should just throw this book away. Yes, I think that is what I should do. The more I look at this, the more puzzled I get. 

It is unfortunate, but I have to do it. 

Goodbye, Diary. 

Corrie

**A/N: Did you like it? Sorry if I disappointed you. Hope I got all the facts right. Please, please review. How else am I to know what you think? **


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